When people started talking about Pokemon Go I was extremely skeptical. It sounded a little like Ingress and a little like Neko Atsume, and I never really “got” Pokemon the way people 5-10 years younger than me always did. I never watched the cartoons, I never played the card game, I never owned a handheld gaming device (until a smartphone), so I just never “got” Pokemon. I have to admit, I still don’t “get” the other games.

But I get Pokemon Go. Not because I care particularly about the “battle” aspect of the game (which is where the origin of the cards comes in), but because of the way it’s utterly transforming the way we’re interacting with each other. Yesterday, I went out for a Poke-walk (yes, that’s now a term) with my husband, just to try this crazy thing out. And I get it. I get why there are thousands of people in Central Park all playing PG.

There are also a lot of people sharing hilarious AR overlay photos of the Pokemon they’re catching… in bathrooms, in Subway on the sandwich fixin’s, on cars, next to their cats and dogs… on their laptop while looking at TLF…

We live in an historic district, so, lucky for us, there are Pokestops pretty much all over our neighborhood. Pokestops, for those of you yet to jump on the Poke-train, are geo-tagged spots that give you resources and items (Pokeballs, which catch the Pokemon; eggs which hatch Pokemon; incubators for the eggs; revive crystals for when your Pokemon are knocked unconscious in battle; potions to restore health; etc.). A quick 10-minute jaunt around the neighborhood thus has a high-yield of in-game items. We’re also pretty close to a couple major monuments, and those have Gyms (battle arenas in which Pokemon can fight each other). We’re also within pretty easy walking distance of a museum with a garden open to the public for free, and it’s a veritable PG haven. Yesterday there were easily a dozen people playing PG at any given time in that garden.

The two best parts about the game, however, have absolutely nothing to do with its mechanics, despite being caused by them.

First, it’s getting people out walking. It’s a geocaching game (made by the people who made Ingress and using the same portals, if you’re familiar with that), so in order to do a lot of things in it, you have to get out and walk (or run–we saw a jogger stopping at all the Pokestops along the street). In order to incubate eggs, you have to walk a certain distance (and it uses step-tracking, not just location, so driving around in an effort to hatch Pokemon will not work). People who are seriously into playing are getting a LOT of exercise. We talked to a lovely player yesterday who had already logged over 15,000 steps. I did laps of a reflecting pool just to hatch a Squirtle, and I barely even know what a Squirtle is or why I care so much about hatching it.

In that sense, PG is a reaction against the so-termed “obesity epidemic,” but, more than that (because I’m not into fat-shaming and I don’t particularly care what weight people are so long as they’re happy and healthy), it’s a reaction against a kind of workaholic culture that traps people inside all day at work (or school), and then encourages them to be passive media consumers at night, placing themselves in front of the television and binge-watching Netflix for hours on end (something I’m very much guilty of myself). PG encourages you to go out and go for a walk, even if it’s not very far or not for very long, if only to replenish your Pokeballs or to try to gain another egg at a Pokestop. And that’s not a bad thing (although I do wonder what it does for people in a wheelchair–do they log distance even though they aren’t “walking,” strictly speaking?).

But, even more importantly, PG has suddenly reversed the “trend” of smartphones and media causing us to be insular and less social (I use scare-quotes because I’m not actually convinced that technology has made us more insular and less social, but it has certainly resulted in a different kind of sociality, and an annoying habit of people to be on their phones during meals and other social times). Yesterday alone, we waved at, smiled at, said hello to, and joked with at least two dozen people we never would have noticed if we weren’t playing. And players are pretty obvious–people staring down at their phones (which is fairly ubiquitous, admittedly) with a very intent expression, and all stopping to “hang out” in very particular areas (by Pokestops, especially if someone has put a lure there, which attracts Pokemon at an increased rate for 30 minutes). We encountered several restaurants who had clearly set up lures on purpose next to their patios (a brilliant business strategy on a hot summer afternoon), as well as other places with Pokeballs drawn on their outdoor chalkboards.

We also sat down in the garden and had conversations with several people we never would have given a second glance to without the game. People with knowledge about the game were sharing it with complete newbies (like us), explaining strategy, talking about how to catch Pokemon, explaining the mechanics of items, and so on. Because the competition in PG is restricted to combat, everyone can collect the same Pokemon in an area–it isn’t a race to see who can get them first, and that means that people congregating in an area are going to be much more inclined to cooperate with one another, to share ideal locations, even to “team up” to search together. This game is a way to encourage people to meet other people in their own neighborhoods, restoring a kind of localized community in a way that we’ve lost with the domination of globalizing technology.

It’s also a way to create camaraderie by creating teams–red (Valor), blue (Mystic), yellow (Instinct)–to compete over Gyms. Teams are factions, but they’re more like sports teams than they are tribes or nations. They matter for control of Gyms, but that’s about it. The fact that I’m Valor and someone else is Mystic isn’t really important; we can still collect the same Pokemon or benefit from each other’s lures. We just can’t take a Gym together. I’d recommend that if you have a regular group who likes to walk together or lives near one another, you should all choose the same team, just so that you can take a Gym if you want, but it isn’t going to “wreck” the game if you aren’t.

What is important is that the team gives you an opening to talk to other players. You identify them as PG people, then you ask, “What team are you?” If you share a team, that’s an immediate connection. If–like us–you are still below level five when someone asks you this question, you ask “What does that mean?” and the conversation about how to play can start, and experienced players become teachers instead of being annoyed with the newbies who “can’t do anything,” because it doesn’t really matter in PG whether or not someone is “good” (except in Gyms, but those are only in select locations). And if you’re on another team, friendly banter can ensue, because, again, it doesn’t really matter.

The reasons that PG is revolutionary thus have nothing to do with Pokemon itself and everything to do with the way that it’s taken an existing franchise and used that community to kickstart the revitalization of local connections and social interactions with strangers that are friendly, rather than hostile. And that is something this world desperately needs right now.

John Palfrey‘s BiblioTech: Why Libraries Matter More than Ever in the Age of Google (2015) is a call to arms for the future of libraries — and their value. Immensely readable, this book charts where libraries were, where they are now, and where they are and should be. I truly loved this book and felt inspired by it — but I also fear that librarians will view this book as another “libraries are great!” boosterism solely rather than as primarily as an exemplar of a choice — evolve or die.

This book doesn’t reject the value of for-profit information sources, like Amazon or Google, but it does contextualize them: they exist to make money, not to make information available to the public regardless of pay. And what that means is that there is still a role for libraries — to share and explain information of value to the public even if it does not make anyone money.

Palfrey has experience as a library director — of the Harvard Law Library. Therefore, he spends time talking specifically about the future of law libraries, and mentioning both the beautiful reading room of the Harvard Law Library (traditional!) and the finals therapy dog (new way to look at libraries!). But much more of the book is focused more generally on libraries, library services, and librarians. He sees libraries and librarians as leaders in information literacy, both for present users and making available knowledge for the future, through digitizing and archiving born-digital and originally print materials.

Palfrey sees libraries both as physical places and as spaces of information. He recognizes that there is a tension between seeing a library as a locale for the stacks and a community center, and suggests that moving towards digitization and collaboration will allow for more of both — the keeping sacred of the past while serving the immediate needs of the present. His most challenging call is for more collaboration between librarians and libraries to better serve the public, preserve culture, and make more information accessible. The book calls for innovation, but within the context of rejiggering resources within institutional structures for all to be more together than alone.

Considering Palfrey’s background is law, it isn’t surprising that there is an entire chapter dedicated to both copyright and privacy. He explains why librarians have such an issue with licensing materials rather than buying them, despite publishers’ push to move to this rental-style model — and why expanding the first sale doctrine is important for the future of libraries.

On a personal note, this book helped to reinforce the ideas I have for making obscure, but important sources truly available to the public is needed — and needs to be done. In remarking about his experience as Harvard Law Library director, he remarks on how publishers come to the library for older versions of their works. This proves both the value of first sale — and how placing value only on that with present monetary value limits the preservation of culture for the future.

Summary: Highly recommended — not only for the librarian in your life, but even more so for all that think that corporations can solve all problems regarding information access.

Lobel uses the conflicting impulses of control and creativity by employers and employees to explore intellectual property – copyright, patent, trademarks, and trade secrets. However, unlike most intellectual property scholars who look outward from where they are settled, Lobel is steeped in innovation studies, allowing her to give a unique perspective on these issues. She also makes sure to discuss how creativity is more likely to take place when creatives can work in collaborative environments, hopefully putting to bed the idea that the majority of useful creative energy is solo, by a lone inventor.

While employers try to lock down the ability of their employees to leave and take it with them, Lobel describes why employees frequently literally cannot take it with them, due to non-compete agreements and claw-back provisions regarding patents. However, she also delves into the reasons these limitations quash innovation as a whole – and are bad for the economy. She concludes that what is good for the economy and talented employees is also better for employers because the talent swirl benefits all who have something to offer. But that is the rub – she also discusses how the present limitations of employers will not end until they are willing to give up control for the possibility of better, more talented employees.

Additionally, one of the joys of reading this book are the clever turns of phrases. For example: “Innovation is a nuanced mistress hiding behind layers of hard work and knowledge. Asking the right questions is half the battle of finding her.”

Considering this overall glowing review are there any problems with the book? Yes, of course. While there are well-placed mentions of feminist jurisprudence and compelling examples of employer exploitation of employees, there is nary a mention of have-nots or those who are not viewed as “creatives” in this new economy. Additionally, many creative people at present stand outside of being in the well-appreciated creative class (well-appreciated are generally those that create or sell products that can be patented) and are instead are in what are I’m going to refer to as “brain sweatshops” – I wish this book could have addressed some of the issues that these mostly recent college grads face.

The other problem with this book is not something that Lobel could do anything about – it is not indexed within intellectual property at all, according to the Library of Congress subject headings and call number. This is so, so wrong, but it demonstrates how far ahead this book is in its thinking.

Summary: Highly recommended, for anyone interested in intellectual property, innovation, creativity, and how to get the most from happy creative employees.

And the interesting readability exists regardless of whether you agree with their overall thesis that to spark creativity, imitation is often required, and the law should accommodate these incremental progressions and copies. Seriously, where else will you in one chapter read about football, fonts (arial v. helvetica), financial services, and … database protection? If you’re not already sold, how about discussions about cooking (including celebrity chefs), high fashion, magicians, and the ethics of comedy writing? And the trademarked drink — the Dark and Stormy? In. One. Book.

Not everyone will be won over by their argument, for example, the small designers on Etsy who come up with creative products and then large companies poach their designs. The book does not discuss Forever 21, Urban Outfitters, and lawsuits involved with fast fashion (see more on this issue from Susan Scafidi on Counterfeit Chic, Jezebel, and the Village Voice), where the knockoffs do not allow for the creativity of the original creator to be acknowledged. (This is not true for high fashion/popular knockoffs — if you are buying a Pippa dress, you are getting it due to the connection to the original).

The general cultural mushing together of our understanding of copyright and plagiarism has allowed for the idea that citation in whatever form means permission must be sought. We all build on the shoulder of the giants that have come before. Thankfully, this book helps to show how the process of using the creative energy of others is important for creativity.

Summary: Read this engaging and informative book. And then buy a copy for your mom.